


Walking in My Sleep

by fandomfrolics



Series: Musical Inspiration Fics [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cooking, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 14:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14522856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfrolics/pseuds/fandomfrolics
Summary: The first time Tony finds Steve sitting alone in the shared kitchen it’s 5:27am on a Tuesday.





	Walking in My Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This one's inspired by Walking in My Sleep from Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness.  
>   
>  _Come on, wake me up_  
>  _Come on, wake me up_  
>  _Feels like I've been walking, walking in my sleep_

The first time Tony finds Steve sitting alone in the shared kitchen it’s 5:27am on a Tuesday. The sky outside the floor-to-ceiling window is just starting to pink up, casting a dim glow to a room that otherwise would have been shrouded in darkness. Howard’s writings showed that the serum enhanced Steve’s night vision so Tony’s not too concerned about it.

“Can’t sleep?” Tony says and Steve starts. Howard’s writings also outlined an increased sense of hearing so Tony  _ is  _ concerned about that.

“Oh, hey Tony,” Steve says, gaze tracking him as Tony circles around him to the fridge. JARVIS helpfully brings the lights up just a bit, enough that Tony can see Steve’s looking carefully guarded when he straightens up again. “Actually, I was about to go for a run.” He shrugs. “I don’t really need that much sleep since the serum.”

That checks out. He’s pretty sure whatever sleep Steve is getting is supposed to be restful though, which by the look of Steve’s face, it hasn’t been.

“What about you?” Steve asks.

“Hmm?” Tony says, carton of milk in hand. Steve’s gaze flickers down and Tony follows it to see his free hand rubbing absently at the arc reactor. When he looks up again Steve’s staring silently at him. He’s a polite boy though and knows when to leave well enough alone. “Oh, I’m just about to go to bed,” he lies. “Been working on some stuff.”

“Right,” Steve says. He jumps up suddenly and claps his hands. “Well,” he says, shaking out his running pants, “goodnight then.” 

“Yeah. Good morning.” Tony drags the side of his mouth up. It’s a sad attempt.

Steve nods and exits the room, leaving Tony staring after him.

\--

They cross paths like that every few nights or so. It’s sufficiently awkward that Tony starts to ask JARVIS to warn him if Steve’s there before he even sets foot near the kitchen. 

It takes a ridiculous villain of the week to literally freeze them together in a block of ice before things take a turn. The literal thaw had somehow also melted whatever was stuck between them and the next time Tony finds himself wandering at night he gets Steve’s location not to avoid him but to actively seek him out.

“About to go for a run?” he says, wry, because this time it’s 3:23am and the team had just gotten back an hour ago.

Steve chuckles. The lights are up halfway and he’s methodically chopping a carrot into long skinny strips.

“You know they sell those pre-shredded right?” Tony says, peering over his shoulder.

“Do they?” Steve doesn’t look up.

“Yep. All washed and everything.”

Steve spares him a glance. “And you would know this, how?”

Tony shrugs. “TV.”

“Ah.” Steve’s lips twitches. He finishes shredding the carrots and drops them into a nearby bowl. 

“Whatchu making?” Tony asks. He leans up against the counter, his hip a half foot away from Steve’s. 

“Just a salad,” Steve replies. He leans past Tony to rinse off a tomato and he’s close enough that Tony can see the red rimmed around his eyes.

“Does that actually fill you up?” Tony asks, curious.

“Not really,” Steve replies. “But I like making them.”

He’s slicing the tomato up just as small, his movements slow and sure. There’s a handful of other produce scattered on the countertop, waiting, Tony’s sure, to be diced just as fine.

“Those are some knife skills you’ve got. Serum?” He’s pretty confident it’s not.

“Practice,” Steve says. Lots of long nights, he doesn’t say.

“Can you show me?”

Steve pauses. “Really?” he says, surprised ringing through the word.

“Yeah,” Tony says, turning to face the countertop. He takes a half step closer, pressing their shoulders together lightly. “I’ve got time to spare.” Steve glances up at him, sees something in his face that makes him blow out a slow breath and lean every so slightly into the touch Tony’s offering.

“Alright,” Steve says.

\--

It’s three months of late night cooking later and Tony’s somehow twelve pounds heavier. He’s shredding some fresh parmesan into a bowl. The steady sound of a spoon stirring round a pot is lulling him into an almost hypnotic calm, enough so that when the stirring stops he instinctively looks up. 

Steve is staring at him. 

“What,” Tony asks, self-conscious, “am I doing this wrong?” Which seems ridiculous because how many ways are there to grate cheese?

Steve blinks. “Er, yeah,” he says. “Let me show you.”

He closes the gap between them and gently tugs the grater from Tony’s grasp. Tony watches his hands intently for the right technique but to his surprise, Steve just plops the grater down onto the counter. 

Tony looks up. “What--” and before he can get the rest of his sentence out, Steve’s lips are on his.

His mouth is sweet, Tony thinks, and the image of Steve licking sugar off his finger a few minutes ago helpfully fills his brain. It’s enough to get his blood flowing to all the right places and he’s just getting into it when Steve pulls back, his eyes searching Tony’s face.

He opens his mouth to say something that Tony is pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear so he surges forward and takes them back to the kissing.

Steve breaks it off again a few seconds later and Tony makes a frustrated noise. He leans in again but this time Steve steps back, holding a hand out, and Tony freezes. He’s never gone from hot to cold so fast in his life. Steve’s already regretting it, of course he is, this isn’t what they have, Tony’s just going to screw it up and then they’re going to have to go back to sad, lonely nights feeling--

“Do you smell that?”

Tony does not. But, serum-enhanced smell - yup, that checks out.

Half a second later something bursts into flames. Tony can’t see what it is because somehow he’s on the floor, Steve’s giant body pressed over his. He groans in protest and Steve quickly jumps off of him, muttering out an apology.

By the time he gets to his feet Steve’s got the fire under control, though Tony’s pretty sure he wasn’t quick enough to fend off the--

_ BEEP BEEP BEEP _

\--fire alarm. “JARVIS!” Tony yells. “Turn it off before it wakes the others!”

“Too late.” Natasha’s leaning in the doorway in a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants, Clint hanging off her shoulder and stifling a yawn. The beeping has thankfully ceased.

Clint ducks around her, sniffing curiously. “What the hell are you two doing?”

“Cooking,” Steve says, somewhat sheepishly.

“Hmm,” Natasha says. “I could be wrong but I don’t think there’s usually this much smoke involved.”

“We got a bit...distracted,” Steve replies. Tony stifles a snort.

“Right.” Natasha purses her lips. “Well, we’ll leave you two to it.”

“What!” Clint sputters. “You’re just letting them off the hook? Last time I set off the fire alarm you made me sit outside in the snow in my underwear for twenty minutes!” Natasha just grabs his arm and drags him back towards the door.

“Well,” Tony says once Clint’s yelling has faded away. And then he stops there, feeling wordless for once in his life.

“Well,” Steve repeats, smiling. He steps forward and wraps a hand around Tony’s waist, which is all the encouragement Tony needs.

“I believe you were about to show me something?” Tony says, smirking.

Steve grins.


End file.
